


Best Christmas Ever

by SPowell



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Christmas, First Time, M/M, Post Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Starsky is still recovering from Gunther's hit, Hutch's assignment away from home turns into a long, forced separation for the guys. Will Christmas bring something wonderful?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Christmas Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Post SR  
> NC-17  
> First Encounter  
> Christmas story written as a secret Santa gift for Tat Goat
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

 

**Best Christmas Ever**

**Bay City, California**

Starsky dropped the phone, Dobey’s voice a faint bellow that followed him around his apartment while he packed, grabbed his jacket, found his wallet and keys, and slipped his sneakers on over bare feet. Not bothering to lock the door, he raced out of his apartment, swinging himself down the stairs three at a hop.

On his way to the car, he ran into old Mrs. Horowitz arranging a wreath on her front gate. He grabbed her about the waist and, swinging her around, kissed her soundly on the mouth as he stood her back on her feet. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. H.!” he shouted at the stunned lady as he opened the door of his Torino and slid inside.

This was going to be the best Christmas ever.

**Six Months Earlier**

Starsky had never seen Hutch look so upset, and there was nothing he could do about it except put on a brave front.

“Everything’s going to be fine, partner, don’t worry,” he told him, settling himself in the recliner Hutch had bought for him. Every muscle in his body ached from the vigorous workout his physical therapist had put him through that afternoon. Hutch had picked him up afterward, looking like he wanted to throw up, but had withheld the bad news until they’d gotten home to Starsky’s apartment.

Hutch put both hands to his face, covering his mouth and nose in a gesture of agitation Starsky had seen many times. “But –your medications!” He blurted out, indicating the prescription bottles lined up on the coffee table.

“I’ll take care of everything. I’m not gonna forget to take them, don’t worry.”

“Your therapy sessions…”

“I’ll call a cab.”

Hutch gestured helplessly at his partner’s thin, sore body. “Who will help you shower and shave? Wash your hair? It hurts you to lift your arms, for chrissake! I can’t leave you now!”

Trying not to show how much it hurt his chest and back, Starsky rose from the chair and crossed the room to stand before his partner and friend. “Buddy, you don’t have any choice. Dobey told us he tried to get you out of it, but Chapman wants _you_. That’s what you get for being such a damned good cop!” He patted Hutch on the shoulder. “Listen, you’ll figure out who’s behind these threats, and if we’re lucky, you’ll be gone a month, tops.” He looked into Hutch’s anguished features and felt his heart clench. His friend loved him so much, and that love had gotten Starsky through some of the toughest days of his life, his recent brush with death being the worst. Hell, he didn’t want Hutch to go across country to help guard some famous country singer, but this guy had clout nobody had even dreamed of. Giles Chapman’s life had been threatened, and he wanted Hutch to head up the team to discover the culprit. The fierce reputation his partner had garnered in the press by singlehandedly taking down James Gunther had evidently traveled as far as Nashville, TN, of all places, not to mention the nation’s capital, where Chapman’s childhood friend lived—none other than the president of the United States.

“I’ll use this time to concentrate on getting better, and when you get back I’ll surprise you with how far I’ve come.” Starsky put a gentle hand on Hutch’s cheek. “Come on, babe. I hate to see you look so down. You make it seem like stayin’ here and playing nursemaid to me is preferable to a trip across country to meet some country music stars. Hell, you can pull your guitar out and outshine ‘em all!”

Hutch pasted an unsteady smile on his face and teased, “Getting a little sick of your whining anyway. I’ll get Huggy over here to put up with you for a while.” Hutch looked around weakly like there was something he’d forgotten to do. Since he’d spent the last hour making lists and writing out instructions, Starsky highly doubted it.

“Good,” Starsky smiled. “Hug’ll make me some good food for a change. Sprouts and seeds aren’t gonna put the weight back on me.”  The love and appreciation in Starsky’s eyes for all Hutch had done for him belied his gentle chiding.

“I have to leave tonight,” Hutch moved uncertainly toward the door. The pain in Starsky’s heart while watching his partner go far surpassed any of his physical anguish. He kept his expression bright while he assured Hutch once again that he’d be back before they knew it, only letting his countenance fall once the door had shut.

Little had he realized that that was the last time he’d see or hear from his partner in six long months.

***

 

Nobody could have known then that Chapman’s relationship to the White House would turn his seemingly small problem of a celebrity stalking into a matter of national security, or that Hutch’s part in the investigation would lock him under a veil of secrecy that prevented him from having any contact with friends or family from pretty much the moment he stepped off the plane.

Starsky had almost given up hope of the whole thing ever ending, each day seeming longer than the last as he threw himself into his rehabilitation out of sheer loneliness and grief over his partner’s absence. Once he’d regained his strength, he’d started dating a girl he met at the supermarket in the candy aisle. It seemed strange not being able to share the little details of his dates with Hutch, as he always had in the past. For instance, how this girl, Rhonda, didn’t like to be kissed on her neck. Or how she was too young to know who Buddy Holly was. When his partner had left, Starsky had imagined they would have long phone conversations during their separation. Then the hard news came that Hutch was going to have to go undercover rather than simply act as a body guard, and Starsky had felt like someone had locked him outside of the one place he truly belonged.

He wondered if it would still have been this difficult if he and Hutch hadn’t spent so much extra time together since he’d been shot. His friend had rarely left the hospital, and then had moved in with him for the duration of his recuperation period. Starsky had come to rely on him so much—even just his presence—that when he’d first heard of Hutch’s assignment, he’d had the fleeting thought that it would probably be good for him to pull away from needing his partner so much. But this long, silent absence was intolerable.

Now, after six agonizing months, Dobey had called to inform Starsky that they’d caught the maniac who had terrorized Chapman and written implied threats to the President and his family, and that Hutch was coming out of his long undercover assignment. Their captain had made plane reservations to meet Hutch in Nashville, where he was temporarily being detained while the FBI debriefed him.

Starsky thrummed with excitement at the thought of seeing his partner again. He didn’t stop to analyze it while he checked the small bag he’d thrown together and made his way through airport security. All he knew was that he couldn’t wait to lay eyes on his best friend, hear his soft voice, and most of all, touch him again. His nerve endings actually seemed to tingle for want of his friend’s touch. They’d always had such a tactile relationship, and in Hutch’s absence, Starsky had found himself almost in withdrawal. Thinking maybe he was just a touchy-feeling type person, he’d tried using Huggy as a replacement, sitting closer to him than usual and laying a hand on his arm or stomach whenever he could. His old friend had cracked under the deluge of attention, telling Starsky in no uncertain terms to cut it out. “I know you miss your other half, but I ain’t the answer. Get a teddy bear or something.”

So Starsky had pushed himself back into the dating scene by going out with Rhonda. She was quite a bit younger than he, and a handful in bed. Starsky found that the frequent and slightly kinky sex quelled his aching need for his partner for a while, but the relationship was going nowhere and he began to feel bad about using the girl for both his physical and emotional needs when he really didn’t have any feelings for her. They had broken up the week before.

Once settled on the plane, Starsky stared out at the tarmac and thought of the gigantic hug he was going to bestow on his partner once he finally got his hands on him.

**Nashville, TN**

Hutch paced the hotel room. He’d finally gotten away from the Feds and their endless questioning and come straight to his room and the telephone. After years of dialing it, Starsky’s number came easily to his mind. When he received a busy signal, he cursed and tried Dobey’s number. No answer. He dialed the third and last number, and was told Huggy was out and would call him back. Finally, Hutch had to settle on calling his parents and having a brief conversation. They rarely talked to one another more than every six months or so anyway, so they hadn’t even realized that Hutch had been unavailable. He hung up feeling like he always felt after a conversation with his parents—empty and unimportant. After all the anticipation of getting ahold of Starsky, he was left feeling a little unwanted. _Out of sight, out of mind_ , he told himself miserably. Six months was a long time. Starsky had probably found somebody else to hang out with in the evenings.

He stared out the window at the blanket of snow that had settled on the ground. It coated the hedge on the other side of the parking lot in front of the lobby window, and managed to give a fairy tale quality to even the grimy Exxon station across the street. All of Nashville was decorated for the holiday. Garland and lights were everywhere, and the snow lent a special nostalgic touch. Hutch felt tears prickling the backs of his eyes, the sentimentality of the season collaborating with his misery to bring him to an all-time low. A radio in the room next door played “Blue Christmas”, rubbing salt in the wound.

There were no words in Hutch’s dictionary to describe the agony he’d been through the past half a year. Being separated from his partner was difficult enough in the best of times, but to have to be away from him when he was just coming back from death’s door had been indescribably painful. The care Hutch had been able to give Starsky once he’d come out of his coma was what held him together after the horrendous trauma of seeing his friend gunned down and then hearing that he more than likely wouldn’t make it. To have that ability to take care of him taken away was pure torture to his naturally apprehensive nature where his partner was concerned. And not only had he not been able to touch or care for Starsky, he hadn’t even been able to speak to him, or even to find out any information about him. He didn’t know if he was adequately recovering, or if he’d had any set-backs. His biggest fear over the past one hundred and seventy-two days had been that Starsky had contracted pneumonia or some other form of complication and succumbed without Hutch there by his side. The busy signal he’d encountered hadn’t done much to waylay that unease.

Added to that had been the continual stress of the case. His own part in it mainly concerned Chapman, but the involvement of the FBI and their negative attitudes toward him and his men made every step he took a struggle.

Hutch sighed and eyed the telephone. Why was Starsky’s line busy? And where the hell was Dobey? Hutch charged over to the phone again and tried Starsky, once more getting the busy signal.  He dialed his captain’s home phone number. He was so surprised when someone answered, that he sat down on the bed and stared at it instead of speaking.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” The gentle voice of Edith Dobey inquired over the phone line.

Hutch shut his mouth, took a breath, and then opened it again. “Mrs. Dobey?”

There was a brief pause, and then, “Hutch? Is that you? Oh, it’s so good to hear from you. Harold said you would be coming home.”

“Mrs. Dobey…how is Starsky?”

“Starsky? Oh, you haven’t been in the loop for a long time, have you, dear. He’s just fine, don’t you worry. He looks wonderful.”

Hutch sighed as the terror of the past long months slowly drained out of him. Starsky was fine.

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I couldn’t get ahold of him.”

Edith made sympathetic noises, then asked, “Would you like to talk to Harold, Hutch?”

Before he could answer, Hutch heard Dobey’s gruff voice in the background and then he was on the line, his voice overly loud in Hutch’s ear.

“Hutchinson? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Cap’n.”

“It’s good to hear from you, son.” Hutch could hear the smile in the man’s voice, and he felt warm affection rise within him. It had been so damn long since he’d spoken with anyone who mattered to him.

“It’s good to hear from you, too, Cap’n. I’ve missed---all of you.”

“It’s been a mess, that’s for sure. I never thought when you left that you would be gone this long. Starsky has been climbing the walls.”

Hutch smiled, imagining his impatient partner’s reaction to the unexpected circumstances. He swallowed. “Edith told me he’s doing well.”

“Yes, yes. He’s fully recovered. He’s worked hard to get back into shape. But he refused to be re-partnered or go out on the streets until you came back. We’ve had him doing research and other jobs.”

Hutch’s heart melted at this news. “I’ve already been debriefed, Cap’n. Can I come home now?”

“I figured you might want a few days to rest. Your room is paid up for the weekend.”

Hutch’s stomach dropped. “Hell, no, Cap’n, I want to get home! I haven’t been able to get ahold of Starsky…”

“Of course you haven’t, Hutchinson, because he’s on his way to see you!”

“What?” Hutch’s breath caught in his throat.

“I said, I’ve sent Starsky to you. He should be there shortly.”

Hutch couldn’t speak. He was going to see his partner, his best friend, his…his… _Starsky_!”

As if on cue, there was a rap at the door.

“Thanks, Cap’n. I gotta go.” He hung up the phone and started for the door so fast that he tripped over the trailing end of the bedspread and landed on the floor. He wrenched around and tried to untangle his foot from the seam that had entwined with his shoelace. Another knock. With a longing glance at the door, Hutch renewed his efforts to no avail. Groaning, an image popped into his mind of him dragging himself across the room, the long, heavy motel bedspread weighing him down until he could finally reach up and turn the doorknob, only to find that Starsky had given up and left.

Fortunately, his partner had a more persevering nature than his overwrought imagination gave him credit for.

And the door was unlocked.

The knob turned and the door opened a crack, the well-known, beloved face peering around the corner.

“Hutch?”

Hutch’s heart jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Here,” he managed to say from the floor. Starsky’s eyes turned to him and he shut the door and crossed the room.

“Are you okay? What’re you doin’ on the floor?” Hutch struggled again with the bedspread, then lay still on the carpet, surrendering and staring up into the twinkling blue eyes he had missed so badly.

“I’m stuck,” he said, and Starsky broke into laughter. Hutch thought the answering smile that took over his face might crack it; it had been so long since a genuine smile had graced his features.

“Still my graceful partner--Well, for God’s sake, let me help you…” Starsky reached down and yanked Hutch’s shoe off, freeing him.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Hutch wondered, putting his hand in Starsky’s offered grip and allowing himself to be pulled to a standing position. He stood staring at his friend, taking in every bit of him like blessed oxygen. “You look great,” he said, meaning it. Starsky had returned to full health. He was fit and tanned, and his smile was brighter than the late-day sun reflecting off the snow outside.

Starsky opened his arms and Hutch fell into them. It felt more than wonderful to wrap himself around his partner and gather him close. He pulled his leathery, soapy scent into his nostrils while squeezing him into a tighter embrace. Starsky grasped him just as desperately, his nose buried in Hutch’s neck. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, and Hutch’s eyes filled with tears.

When Starsky felt the sob, he pulled back enough to look into his partner’s wet eyes, the tears over the brilliant blue giving them the appearance of tropical waters. He thumbed away the moisture from his cheeks. “Hey, this is a happy day.”

“These are happy tears,” Hutch said through a smile, and hugged him fiercely to him. No one was there to wonder at the long moments the two men stood and simply held each other, soaking in the closeness they had missed for so long. Starsky thought it was like drinking water when parched; he had to get his fill before he could move away. Touching Hutch again was supplying his most basic need.

The intense embrace slowly turned into a warm cuddle, and Hutch found himself rocking Starsky in his arms. Every time he thought he should move away, he was either pulled closer by his partner or overwhelmed by his own overpowering need to hang on. He had been torn away from this all-important man. He needed this time to re-establish their bond. They both needed it.

“I’m so glad that you’re safe,” Starsky said after a time. “I’ve been worried about you.” He pulled back and held his partner at arm’s length, really seeing him. He had lost some weight, but he was still muscular and firm. He’d shaved the mustache off before he’d left Bay City—while Starsky was still in the hospital. Now his hair was trimmed shorter and it looked like he’d missed a day’s shave. He was dressed in worn jeans and one of his hippie shirts—this one a light blue embroidered with bright colors. “You look…good enough to eat.” Starsky said, then, realizing exactly what he’d said, blushed a bright crimson.

Hutch’s eyes opened wide and then he laughed, pulling Starsky to him in another huge hug. “God, I’ve missed you!” he cried, planting a big, wet kiss on his friend’s cheek. “Why don’t I order some room service? Unless you’d rather go out?”

“Nope, we have a lot of catching up to do,” Starsky replied, moving toward the small sitting area and plopping down in a chair. He watched Hutch kick his other shoe off and go to the phone. While he ordered, Starsky simply drank in the sight of him. It seemed like a dream having him with him again. In some ways, it had felt like Hutch had died, he was just so suddenly, irrevocably gone. He got up and crossed the room, sitting down beside him so that their thighs, hips, and shoulders were touching. Hutch glanced over at him and smiled widely, seeming to understand, and knocked him sideways with a playful nudge. Starsky rested his head on Hutch’s shoulder.

When he hung up, Hutch announced that dinner would be there in half an hour. The room had darkened, although it was not quite four o’clock. “It’s snowin’ hard,” Starsky said with wonder in his voice. He got up and went to the window, staring out. He felt Hutch come up behind him, then pull him back to lean against him, his arms winding tightly around his waist and his chin resting on his shoulder. It was a lover’s embrace, and Starsky wondered at the naturalness of it. In that moment he thought about what it might be like to be Hutch’s lover. Turning in his arms, he looked into his partner’s face.

“I want…”Starsky said, and Hutch’s mouth softened into an indulgent smile.

“What do you want, Starsk?”

The use of his nickname after so many long months was Starsky’s undoing. Tears rose in his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks, his mouth bending in a frown. Hutch pulled him close, holding his head to his shoulder. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

Starsky took a shaky breath. What was it that he wanted?

When the words came out, they were choked with tears. “I want—I want you, Hutch. All of you. It’s like I want to climb inside you…” He trembled in the embrace, trying to find the words to express how he felt. “I never want to be without you…not even for a second. God, Hutch, this has been so hard!” He started crying in earnest, something Hutch had rarely seen. He shushed him, stroking his hair and murmuring words that caressed his heart until he stopped, sniffled, and started hiccupping. There was a knock on the door and Hutch pulled away. “Room service,” he said softly, brushing a finger across Starsky’s tear-streaked cheek. When he went to open the door, Starsky turned away from the waiter’s gaze, heading into the bathroom to wash his face and blow his nose.

“Feel better?” Hutch asked when he’d returned. Starsky nodded and sat opposite him, the dinner spread out on a table between them. They ate pasta and salad in companionable silence, watching the snow fall outside the window. Christmas lights came on, outlining the roof opposite, and the tree in the lobby window twinkled to life. Starsky glanced across at Hutch, as though making sure he was still there with him. Now and then he noticed Hutch doing the same thing.

When they finished eating, Hutch got out a pack of cards, and they played a few games of rummy, winding down from their emotional reunion. Then they got ready to retire for the night. For the first time, Hutch seemed to realize that there was only one bed in the room.

“Mind sleeping in the same bed, or you want me to call for a rollaway?”

“It sounds dumb, but I want to be as close to you as possible,” Starsky admitted. “Told you—I’d climb inside you if I could.”

 Hutch smiled and yanked the rest of the bedspread off, tossing it in a pile. “It doesn’t sound dumb. I feel the same way.” He brought down the blanket and sheet, climbing onto the mattress and knee-walking to the other side. Starsky turned out the light, and got in after him. They pulled the covers up and lay looking out at the still falling snow.

“You didn’t have me to back you up,” Starsky said after a while.

“I know, Hutch said. “I got here and suddenly all this shit went down. The guy was making covert threats in these letters that showed up out of nowhere without any prints on them. The FBI came in, and I ended having to pose as a member of the band.”

Hutch kept talking, filling Starsky in on the past six months, as his partner watched the snow drifting silently down outside the window. He didn’t know when Hutch’s voice melted into the drone of the heating system or when the full moon rose high in the sky to shine over the bed. Starsky gradually became aware of these things and that his partner had fallen asleep and lay partially on top of him, their legs tangled under the covers.

Someone had left their radio on in the room next door and he could plainly hear the drone of the d.j.’s voice through the thin walls. Starsky found himself too wired to sleep and scooted up in the bed to lean against the headboard. Hutch didn’t wake, just adjusted himself so that he had his legs and arms curled under him and his head lying on Starsky’s bare thigh, his lips pushed up into an unconscious sneer. Starsky looked at his partner affectionately, wondering if there were any other two men on Earth who shared the type of relationship he and Hutch did. He wasn’t at all uncomfortable having him lying on him this way, even with them both in bed and in their underwear. What kind of relationship was that? Brotherly? Starsky thought that if it were Nick, he’d be pushing him over to the other side of the bed in disgust. Plain old friends was out…he couldn’t imagine Huggy on him like this, particularly not now that he’d discovered his aversion to affectionate touching. A song he recognized began on the other side of the wall, and the occupants of that room turned the volume up.

_Oh, my love, my darling_

_I’ve hungered for your touch_

_A long, lonely time_

_And time goes by so slowly_

_And time can do so much_

_Are you still mine?_

Watching Hutch’s sleeping face, Starsky was unable to resist gently running his fingers through his blond hair. From Hutch’s ear to the back of his neck, he stroked, feeling his chest tighten at finally being able to be with his partner again. Partner…was that it? Did he know any other police partners who were as close as they were? Most were married to other people, or just very good friends. None of them finished each other’s sentences, shared their food and drink, spent most of their free time together, and pined for each other when separated. None shared long hugs, kisses on the cheek, and gentle caresses.

_I need your love_

_I need your love_

_God speed your love to me_

Was it the song that made Starsky feel like he wanted to gather his sleeping partner up in his arms? His mind conjured up a picture of kissing Hutch’s cheek, then his mouth. His groin tingled and jumped, pressing against the cotton of his briefs, and Starsky’s hand stilled on Hutch’s head. The radio next door fell silent. Hutch rolled so that he was stretched out diagonally on the large bed, his head now pillowed near Starsky’s knee. God, he had missed this man so much. Being without him had been a painful ordeal he never wanted to go through again. If he could put his friend in a bottle and spray Hutch on himself every day, he would. Starsky chuckled at the image, and the jolt awakened his partner. Hutch turned his head and looked directly into his eyes. Then he smiled, and Starsky smiled back.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“You were laughing.”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah.”

“What’ve you got to laugh about in the middle of the night, you bozo?”

Starsky laughed again. “I’m just so damned happy to be here with you. And to hear you calling me names again.”

Hutch smiled wider and gave a long and leisurely stretch. Then he turned on his side to face Starsky and found himself staring at an impressive hard on.

“Wow,” he said, ogling the bulge in Starsky’s briefs.

“Thanks,” Starsky grinned lopsidedly. He thought Hutch would move away then, but he remained where he was.

“What’ve you been thinking about while sitting here?” Hutch asked, trying not to stare at Starsky’s groin.

“Um, well, actually, I’ve been analyzing our relationship.” Starsky felt his prick twitch under his partner’s scrutiny.

Hutch’s eyes moved determinedly away from the bulge, up to Starsky’s eyes, and then back again.

He swallowed. “Oh, and? What did you come up with?”

Starsky shrugged. “Not brothers, not just friends, not just partners. I dunno what the hell we are, Hutch. I’ve missed you so fucking much. Like you’re a piece of me or something. It’s been hell.”

Hutch’s hand came up and fell just short of touching the jutting hump in front of him, landing on Starsky’s hairy thigh instead. He let out a breath, which stirred the monster in the briefs. “Same here,” he said, his voice hoarse. A couple of minutes of silence passed, Starsky’s erection never diminishing. Finally, Hutch moved away a little to rest his head lower down, near his friend’s knee.

“So, uh, is that how you got the boner?” Hutch asked. “Thinking about us?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Starsky admitted. “Weird, huh.” He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, just comfortable being in the same room as his friend after all this time. Hutch’s cheek against his skin and his warm breath falling on his thigh were managing to keep his dick hard as granite.

“It’s okay if you wanna go back to sleep,” he said softly. “I’m just gonna sit here.”

Moving his head, Hutch glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was just after midnight. Rising, he scooted up on the bed so that he was lying next to his partner.

“Merry Christmas,” he said solemnly.

“Merry Christmas,” Starsky answered, his eyes shining in the dark.

Hutch reached out and touched his friend’s chest where the scars had healed. “They look good.”

“I highly doubt that,” Starsky grimaced slightly.

Hutch flattened his hand and ran it over the soft, dark hair that grew around the puckered skin. “No, really. They’ve healed well. You’ve forgotten what they looked like before.” He gazed into Starsky’s eyes and ran his hand up to cup the side of his neck, his thumb running over the stubbled jaw line.

Both men conveyed the same message with their eyes--they knew where they were headed, and they wanted it. Leaning forward, Hutch gently kissed Starsky on the lips, and when Starsky responded by opening his mouth, Hutch explored it with a questing tongue, loving the fact that he was kissing his partner. Their hands began to roam.

As their caresses became more urgent, Hutch reached down and removed his boxer shorts, then tugged gently at Starsky’s briefs until his friend wiggled out of them.

They lay face to face on their sides, and Hutch moved forward a few inches so that their bodies were only centimeters apart. As if of one mind, their cocks twitched and met in the middle.

“Holy shit,” Hutch said breathlessly, amazed at the feeling.

Starsky nodded, growling low in his throat.

The two men stared at each other, marveling, before coming together again in a passionate kiss.

Starsky nibbled at his partner’s sensuous lips, smoothing the hurt over with his tongue, then moved down to Hutch’s long, soft neck. His partner’s quiet panting made Starsky so hard, he began thrusting against him. His mouth moved hungrily, covering Hutch’s lips again, devouring his tongue. Time seemed to stand still in the darkened hotel room. The snow fell silently outside and, now that the neighbors had shut off their radio, the only sounds in the room were their quickened breathing, hungry kisses, and the constant thrum of the heating unit.

“Good?” Hutch asked against his mouth, and Starsky ground into him in answer. Hutch threw his leg up over Starsky’s hip and thrust back at him, their kissing intensifying until Starsky felt dizzy with need. “Oh God, oh yeah…” he muttered, claiming more of Hutch’s body with his hands. He nibbled on his lips and licked his teeth, wrapping his arms up and around his back, feeling the soft skin and hard muscles, then plunging into the silky hair and bringing his head closer, his mouth more firmly upon his own. Hutch’s fingers tangled in Starsky's curls, kneading his scalp as his mouth devoured.

“Oooohhh…” Hutch moaned, breaking the kiss. He moved his lips to his partner’s neck and licked along it until he reached his ear, then he pushed his tongue inside the shell, and Starsky gasped, jutting his hips and grinding hard against the velvet steel teasing his groin. His hands shifted to Hutch’s ass and yanked him tightly to him, their cocks sliding together with delightful friction. When Hutch rolled Starsky on top of him and wrapped those luscious long legs around his waist, a feral moan escaped Starsky’s throat. They breathed harder as they undulated, driving themselves higher, their desperate cries growing louder as they neared the pinnacle.

“Oh hell, shit, damn…” Starsky gasped as the sensation built. “Hutch, you’re so…so good, babe.”

“Oh yeah, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Hutch sounded like a record with the needle stuck in the groove as he pushed and twisted, seeking the promised release. “That’s it, baby, that’s it…”

Their lips came together again, tongues entwining desperately, and then Starsky jerked, warm semen squirting between their bodies. Hutch thrust against the wetness, then came with a moan. They lay together, breathing hard. Hutch moved his legs off Starsky, but kept his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“That was fucking amazing,” Starsky breathed.

“Amazing fucking,” Hutch corrected, and they giggled, both slowly coming down from their sexual high. Snuggling close, they drifted into a light slumber.

*******

An hour later they were going at it again, kissing frantically and rolling all over the bed. “Still wanna climb inside me?” Hutch gasped into Starsky’s ear.

Starsky pulled back and looked at him. “You gotta be kidding me,” he declared fervently, then fell to kissing him again, his fingers reaching to pinch taut nipples.

“I want you to, Starsk,” Hutch panted into his mouth, his hand sliding over the muscled globes of his ass. “I want you to own me. I want your cock up my ass, fucking me.”

Starsky’s breath hitched in his throat, the very idea sending ripples of desire through his body. His dick seemed to triple in size.  It was actually drooling in expectation.

Hutch rolled away from him, sending a rush of cold air over his body, and Starsky shivered. He heard a zip and then Hutch returned with a tube of lubrication.

“You musta been a boy scout…always prepared,” Starsky commented hoarsely.

“Sea scout, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Good enough.”

Hutch took hold of Starsky’s hand and squirted jell onto his long fingers. Starsky stared at them like they belonged to someone else. Hutch gave him a meaningful look, and pulled him close for a devastating kiss. He threw his leg up over Starsky’s hip, and his partner moved his glistening fingers between his ass cheeks and gently inserted one of them inside.

“Oooohhh, oh, yeah,” Hutch groaned, as Starsky slid it in and out. The sounds coming out of Hutch made it hard for Starsky to concentrate, he was so turned on. He tried a second finger, and then a third, thrilling at the way Hutch writhed against him as he finger fucked him. “Starsky…” he kept moaning in his ear, driving him crazy with desire. His face was a beautiful study in ecstasy, and Starsky couldn’t get enough of looking at him.

“Turn around,” he ordered gruffly when he couldn’t stand it anymore and his cock was once again hard and throbbing. Hutch quickly flipped so that they spooned together.

Starsky pushed Hutch’s left leg up and positioned his prick at his anus.

“Hey, you sure?” he gave his partner one more chance to back out, praying that he wouldn’t.

“Hell, yes! Do it, do it!”

Starsky pushed in, wrapping his arms around Hutch and pulling him to him. Hutch grunted and Starsky forced himself to wait it out until he felt him relax against him. Then he pushed farther in, inch by inch, until he was completely sheathed inside of Hutch’s body.

“Oh—oh--oh,” was all he could get out, it felt so damn good. Hutch rocked his hips back, forcing him deeper. “Oh!”

“Starsky—“ Hutch almost sobbed. “Please!”

The words shot a lightning bolt of desire through Starsky, and he breathed out onto Hutch’s neck, his nerves tingling. Sucking in air, he began to pump his hips, smoothly sliding in and out of the narrow canal, his pleasure mounting with every thrust. He could feel Hutch’s tight abdominal muscles clenching beneath his hands. When the smooth skin of his cock touched the backs of his fingers, he wrapped them around it, pumping the turgid organ up and down, eliciting a desire-crazed yell from his partner. Starsky bent his leg for better leverage and thrust harder and deeper, feeling his cock being squeezed in the tight chamber of Hutch’s rectum and wondering if he’d live through the exquisite pleasure of it. He was dizzy with ardor, his senses roiling with ecstasy.

“You feel so good, s-so tight, oh Hutch…” he said brokenly into his partner’s sweaty neck. He could feel his lover’s pulse beneath his lips, and he opened his mouth to suck the tender, salty skin, leaving his mark on the man he loved more than anything. Hutch pushed back in answer, his ass swallowing him to the hilt, and Starsky gasped when he felt their sacks touch. Another thrust and he was over the top, crying out Hutch’s name, and squeezing his hard shaft in reflex. With a gasp, Hutch ejaculated all over Starsky’s hand.

“Yes… yes!” he yelled in the throes of his climax, jerking repeatedly in Starsky’s arms.

“Shh, baby, shhh,” Starsky crooned, rubbing the smooth, sweaty chest beneath his hands.

They lay panting, Starsky slowly easing his prick out of its warm sheath. Hutch turned around and sprinkled kisses all over his partner’s face, whispering, “I love you, I love you. You know it, don’t you?”

Starsky nodded, moving both of their heads as they pressed together. “I know it. I love you, too. God, Hutch, that was the most incredible…”

“I know, I know,” Hutch swallowed thickly.

“What’re we gonna do now?” Hutch asked when he’d caught his breath.

“Well, gimme a minute to recover,” Starsky chuckled, bending his head to lick at the sweat glistening on his lover’s sternum.

“No, I mean, soon we’ll be going home. Are we going to pretend this never happened?”

Starsky moved his head back and looked into Hutch’s eyes. “No! Hell, no. I don’t want to do that, do you?”

Hutch shook his head, his nose rubbing against Starsky’s.

“Let’s go to sleep and think about tomorrow tomorrow.” Starsky snuggled down against his partner, pulling him close against him. “We’re all wet and sticky,” he murmured against Hutch’s shoulder.

“So go get a wash cloth.”

“Can’t. Tired. Wore me out.”

“Well you’re not the one who just got fucked in the ass by a monster cock.”

Starsky grinned against Hutch’s skin. “Okay, okay, flattery’ll get you everywhere.” He moved away and off the bed, returning shortly with a warm, wet cloth. When he’d cleaned them up, he climbed back in, turning so that Hutch was spooned against his back. “Mmm,” Hutch murmured, his cock finding the crack of Starsky’s ass and burrowing in between the cheeks.

“Hey, don’t get any ideas. I’m exhausted.”

“Not tonight, honey, you have a headache?”

Starsky thrust back at him. “No, but let me get a little sleep first.”

Hutch gave a dirty little chuckle that almost made Starsky change his mind, but Hutch kissed him on the neck, settled down against him, and closed his eyes, his cheek against his back.

“Hutch?” Starsky whispered, joy rising up within him.

“Mmm?”

 “This really is my best Christmas ever.”

“Me, too, buddy. Me, too.”

_finis_


End file.
